I've Got Plenty of Java and Chesterfield Kings, But I Feel Like Crying. I Wish I Had a Heart of Ice

In the Venusberg, John Collier, 1901

Time was I would get preoccupied trying to recall the rest of a dream from the one segment that popped into my mind in the mornings. It finally prompted me to start writing them down while I could remember them - mostly because some were quite entertaining or deeply fascinating. Then there's the black dogs which sit on my shoulder all day.

I imagine exiles dream of home but wake up with the same feeling. Her face fades under the inertia of time. Just the name is enough to bring the feeling back for a few minutes of rapid eye movement. Eventually, as always, I wake up with that elated feeling in my chest which within seconds veers to obliteration of the soul as reality thumps me square in the heart.

Probably explains why almost all songs are about it. Call me Deacon Blues.

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